I hear the train a-comin', it's rollin' around the bend, And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when. I'm stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin' on, But that train keeps rollin' on down to San Antone. When I was just a baby, my mama told me, son, Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns, But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry. I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dinin' car, They're probably drinkin' coffee and smokin' big cigars. Well, I know I had it comin', I know I can't be free, But those people keep a-movin', and that's what tortures me. . . . Well, if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine, I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line, Far from Folsom Prison, that's where I want to stay. And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.